


At the Automat

by Salmon_I



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_I/pseuds/Salmon_I
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred and Arthur share a meal in 1913.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Automat

_1913_

  
"C'mon, this is really cool! Wait til you see it!" Alfred's hand itched to grab Arthur's arm and drag him along the bustling New York street. To say things were good between them was far from the truth. But relations had definitely improved in recent years, despite the rising tensions in Europe. Arthur had seemed distracted most of the day, probably about matters back home, but he really had very little idea what was occurring on the other continent. The truth was there were alot of his people who preferred to keep it that way. He wasn't fully certain what he thought himself. Arthur had supported him in his fight against Spain, it was true. And he found himself excited by the prospect of a tighter relationship with his former caretaker. Though it was hard to see him as such now.

The sullen, impeccably dressed Edwardian gentlemen attempting to keep pace with his long strides did not remind him of the brightly smiling more casually dressed man who had read him stories and chased rabbits with him across grassy hills. He'd never been certain if the change had been strictly toward him, or towards everyone. A part of him even suspected, from things others had said, that the side of Arthur he'd known all those years ago was almost unknown to any other nation. Though Portugal had said something once to him, shortly after the Revolutionary War. Something about Arthur's smile. And for a moment somehow there'd been a feeling of two people sharing a very special secret. Portugal had been the first neutral country to recognize his Nationhood, but inspite of that they hadn't had alot to do with one another.

"Really, Alfred. This is not a race." Arthur twirled his walking stick once before setting it on the ground and giving the younger nation an irritated glance.

"But that's the point! It is!" At the other's blank look Alfred side, hand twitching - almost reaching out toward the other's arm - but, no! - and he dragged his hand through his hair instead. "Everyone has less time now-a-days, right? Things are going so fast, we all have to keep up. That's what makes this place amazing! C'mon!"

Arthur could only sigh and follow along, glancing up at the sign that read "Automat" on the building they entered. He stared at what greeted him with a frown, rather confused. There were tables, but nobody was waiting to seat them. In fact, everyone seemed to be seating themselves. More like one would at a pub then a restaurant. Alfred was leading him toward a wall, and handing him a tray. "What do I do with this?"

"Geez, Arthur - it's a tray. You put food on it." Alfred told him. At the red flush that passed across the other's face, the American nation felt himself grin. Though he hadn't stopped to consider the reasons, he was finding he liked it when Arthur got flustered. There was no stumbling over words this time, only the brief flush of color, but it made his heart speed up slightly none-the-less.

"I could guess that, you prat." Arthur scowled, staring blankly at the wall as Alfred came to a stop and pulled out his wallet, inserting a nickel in. A door opened and he pulled out a wrapped sandwich.

"You choose what you want. It's cheap, and it's made ready back there." Alfred was nodding to the wall. "There's no waiting for the food to be brought. It's really fast and efficient!"

Arthur looked at the wall in front of him dubiously. "I suppose it makes it faster, but-"

"Don't hold up the line, Arthur. Want a sandwich?" Before the other could protest, Alfred was popping money into the machine. and opening the little door to put the sandwich on his plate.

"I can pay for my own meal - and choose it too!" Arthur tried not to sound flustered. It had felt odd enough, going out - just Alfred and him. None of their dignitaries or officials. They rarely spent time alone together. And the fact that it was a meal made it so awkward - so intimate. Or perhaps not so intimate, Arthur reckoned - with how crowded the place was. People talking and shouting and hustling between the counters for their food selections. It seemed so casual, and at the same time so chaotic - words he'd use to describe the nation beside him. Alfred's tie was loosened, the top button of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His handkerchief was falling over - not enough starch - and Arthur felt the strangest desire to reach over and fix the other's appearance.

But, no, Alfred wasn't one of his colonies, or even a member of the Imperial Conference. They were barely allies at this point. So such an action would be well out of bounds of their relationship. He wasn't even certain what to coin their relationship. Did they even count as friends? Or merely as business partners? Frustrated, he stuck a coin into the next slot, not even caring what it was. There didn't seem to be time to read and study what was available. Everyone seemed to get irritated if you 'held up the line' as Alfred had said.

"Let's grab a table over here!" Alfred said the minute their trays were full - and Arthur was certain he hadn't bought everything on his tray - had Alfred been adding to it?

"Is it always this busy?" He asked the other.

"Usually. It's getting very popular. They're opening up more of them, in fact. And there's nowhere to get a better cup of coffee."

Arthur realized, too late to even complain about it, that that was the drink on his tray. He grimaced.

"You're not going to get all British on me and complain it isn't tea, are you?" Alfred cut in.

Arthur glowered. "Under the circumstances, it would be hard for me not to be "British on you" as you so quaintly put it. But as I agreed to eat lunch with you, I will make do with what you serve. I've certainly put up with Francis's disgusting idea of proper meals and drinks often enough."

Alfred glanced down at his plate, unwrapping a sandwich with a small frown. "Well, that makes me feel better. Comparing me to Francis. I mean, everyone knows how you two argue."

"We've actually been getting on frighteningly well in recent years." Arthur took a tentative bite of something from his plate. Some sort of meat pie. Since his expectations for the food wasn't high, he wasn't overly disappointed. He wasn't exactly enthralled, but...did Alfred honestly eat that sandwich in one bite?

"Oh..." Alfred tilted his head, feeling slightly upset about the revelation for some reason. "I hadn't fully heard about that."

And Arthur found himself feeling inexplicably guilty over that response. And why should he? It was ridiculous because, for one, it was Francis, and the good relations were bound not to hold anyway. And, for two, he certainly had no reason to concern himself over Alfred's opinion of his relations with other countries. Now he just had to stop the twinge he felt at how Alfred was pushing something around in a bowl - Beans of some sort? - in a manner that almost looked dejected. "Francis is a much a perverted frog as ever, but there's so many other problems right now. He's really the least of my concerns."

The insult seemed to perk Alfred up, and he offered a grin. "Well, yah, Francis is Francis - I'm sure." He took a large bite of the food. "So, what do you think? Isn't this place great?"

Arthur was tempted to tell him that he honestly didn't understand his need to rush things. A meal should be for enjoyment, not a race. Deciding that taking a dejected Alfred twice in one day was not something he wanted, he glanced around again. At the shining metal mechanisms, and the noisy room of people. "It's...very you." He settled on.

The answer may have been less enthusiastic then he'd hoped for. But, still, Alfred felt like the reply was an honest one, and for once the island nation didn't sound like he was insulting him. He offered the other a bright smile before unwrapping another sandwich.

_Fini_

**Author's Note:**

> Automats! Automats were the original fast food. Pop in a nickel, and out comes a sandwich. (Sounds more like a vending machine, but in this case there were people in the back making the stuff. and you could get hot and cold dishes. And I've read that they ironically were said to have the best coffee around.) You should go google some pictures - they were really awesome looking! Okay, sorry, food geek in me coming out. I'll stop now.
> 
> More from my old UsUk summer camp collection.


End file.
